


Big Trouble in a Small Package

by charis2770



Series: Finding Vengeance...or is it Something Else? [20]
Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: M/M, Punishment, Slash, Spanking, This one is a little intense, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-25
Updated: 2013-09-25
Packaged: 2017-12-27 14:02:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/979782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charis2770/pseuds/charis2770
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Akihito investigates some fishy happenings at the pier. He uncovers a dangerous plot, and in hoping to foil it, puts himself in grave danger. Asami is terrified for his safety, and furious with Akihito for taking a stupid risk. This chapter contains a pretty serious punishment spanking. It IS consensual as Akihito agrees to it, but it's still a little intense, so read with caution if this is a sore subject for you!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Big Trouble in a Small Package

It’s not that he starts OUT to get captured again! Not at first, anyway. The lead comes across his boss’ desk and it’s the kind that used to excite him and now terrify him. Usual activity at one of the older, disused piers. Someone who thinks they saw somebody important down there one night, at least it looked like it, in a fancy suit and a fancy car, smoking fancy cigarettes, toting a couple of bodyguards along for the ride. Akihito lives in fear of the day one of these leads brings him to Asami’s door. Or Feilong’s. Or both of them. So he snaps it up and heads out to get to the bottom of it. He stakes the place out for a while, and sure enough, there are small boats coming and going at odd hours. While he waits to catch a glimpse of anybody significant, he researches the building, gets copies of the deed from public records as well as a floorplan emailed to him. He’s on good terms with one of the women in that office, and she’s great about getting him information when he asks. He sends her little gifts at all the holidays, and she says he reminds her of her son. He takes pictures, and lots of notes, and spends a lot of time being bored off his ass, but at least he finds a handy vantage point up near the eaves of the rear of the building where there’s a rickety service ladder and a loose vent grating.

Which is where he decided to get captured again. There IS a man in a nice car and a fancy suit with a couple of bodyguards who smokes expensive cigarettes. But it’s not Asami’s car or bodyguards and the suit is off the rack and the cigarettes aren’t Dunhills and the  man is definitely not Asami. Or anybody Takaba recognizes.  He overhears the man talking to his partner one night and their words turn his blood to ice in his veins. They’re talking about Asami, and Feilong, and Yoh. And Akihito. It seems they’re hoping to put pressure on Asami and Feilong, who are doing something the men don’t like, but Aki can’t be sure what that is. He gathers that they had apparently wished to kidnap Takaba as a first resort but have had no luck keeping track of him or finding him alone. As a second resort, they’re planning to send pictures to Baishe of Feilong doing things he shouldn’t be doing, and people he shouldn’t be doing them WITH, first thing in the morning when they can be sure the person whose name they have will be awake to get the email right away. They laugh and call Feilong Asami’s faggot fucktoy. Their plan is to let Feilong’s own people take him out of the mix and they figure that’s going to upset Asami enough to make him leave them alone (obviously, they don’t know Asami very well, but there’s no way Aki can let them send those pictures.) His mind races, and he comes up with a plan on the fly. He emails all his files and notes to Asami, including all his photos of the pier and warehouse, its deed, and the floorplans, and he tacks on a note that he’s going to let them catch him but since Asami will have advance warning, Aki expects to be rescued posthaste. He silences his phone and waits. When he glances at it a couple of minutes later, he’s got half a dozen missed calls and several texts from Asami warning him not to do anything stupid, demanding that he reply at once, promising dire retribution, and finally assuring him that Asami is on his way and that Akihito may wish the kidnappers had kept him once Asami gets his hands on him. This makes Aki a little nervous, but it looks like the better-dressed of the two partners is getting ready to leave. He’s the one doing the emailing, and in possession of the pictures, and Aki has no way to reliably identify or follow him, so he takes a deep breath and lets the loose grating clang back into place with a loud BONG. He pauses a few seconds, hiding his cell phone under a bedraggled pigeon’s nest before climbing down the ladder, listening hard for the sound of running feet. Once he hears it, he pauses again and then makes a run for the gate. They catch him just as he flings himself at the chain-link fence to try to climb over it to safety, and drag him back inside the warehouse. One of the goons who have nabbed him cuffs him on the back of the head so hard that Akihito bites his tongue. He glares at the goon resentfully and strives to kick him in the balls as hard as he can.

The door to the warehouse opens, spilling yellow light out onto the dark pavement, and the man in the suit stops the roaring goon from wringing Akihito’s neck by demanding to see who they’ve caught. They haul Aki into the light and the man in the suit laughs delightedly. The other partner, the grubbier one who seems to be in actual charge of whatever they’ve been shipping, peers around him and cackles.

“Why if it isn’t Takaba Akihito,” he exclaims.  “I’ve so been wishing to meet you. You must come in!”

“That’s okay,” snarls Aki, the very picture of resentful noncompliance. “I’ll take a rain check. Your doormen aren’t very polite!”

“Ah, my apologies. They’re overly protective, you see. And I must insist.” The man’s smile freezes and turns vile, and he instructs to goons to bring Akihito inside. He struggles as hard as he can and drags his feet and in general makes it as difficult as possible for them. The well-dressed man speaks harshly to them in Korean, and Aki only knows a little, though he gathers they’re being ordered not to harm him any more than absolutely necessary. These are orders he can get behind, but he decides it’s wiser to keep them in the dark about his rudimentary grasp of Korean, for his own safety. As suit guy snaps pictures of the process, the goons bind Akihito to an old metal chair with zip ties at his wrists and ankles, and the man demands that they find Aki’s cell phone. The only one he has on him is a disposable he keeps on hand for times when he needs to ditch his real phone, but as it happens, the last time he’d used it had been to call Asami. The man sends a file containing the pictures. He turns back to the goons who now stand gloating over Akihito as he struggles in his bonds and curses them ineffectually. The man in the suit and his partner hold a whispered conversation. He tries to remember how long ago he sent the information to Asami, wishes he’d remembered to check the timestamp on the message. Not that he knows what time it is now or anything. He has, as usual, acted quickly and decisively as the situation called for…and completely without thought for the possible terrors his choice could result in. The man in the suit switches his cell to video mode and instructs the thugs, this time in Japanese so Takaba can be sure to understand what’s coming, to rough him up. Just a little bit, so Mr. Asami will know that they’re serious. He warns them to be careful not to cause permanent damage or they’ll be considered liabilities to the organization. The second man, obviously not much more than a flunky, echoes him. At this, the thugs do look nervous, and they are, he supposes, pretty careful. He’s slapped and backhanded across the face until his ears are ringing and his face feels like it’s on fire. He can taste blood in his mouth. They hold the chair steady and sock him a couple good ones in the stomach so that he retches and coughs, biting his lips so that he won’t cry out, knowing Asami will see the video shortly. The man in the suit stops them, and from the look on their faces, it is much sooner than they’d like. Good. Aki’s pretty well done with this beating.  Has it been more than an hour? Two? The building’s shit on security. There’s an office door and an old warehouse door that’s rusted shut, and inside there’s a second loft floor to the warehouse with a door in the back of the building leading onto a small landing with stairs to the ground below, just next to the ladder Akihito had been using to stake the place out. They usually keep a guy at the office door and a couple down on the pier and one patrolling the empty lot. Since two of the bully boys are here with Akihito and the suit and the suit’s partner, that means there are only two men outside. And they never bother with the back door since it’s off the ground and somehow in their tiny minds that apparently means nobody could use the STAIRS to get to it. The stairs are old and rusted and rickety, so perhaps they’re thinking they’ll hear the creaking if someone tries to use them. They don’t know Asami and his people.

The suit finishes sending the video file and then places the call to the number he’s retrieved from Akihito’s throwaway phone. Very faintly, they all  hear the sound of another cell ringing. It seems to be coming from somewhere behind them. The suit, the one Aki’s starting to think of as the toady, and the goons are all looking around wildly. Because the suit is standing right next to Takaba, he can hear the conversation just fine.

“Hello?” says a smooth, cultured voice politely.

“A-Asami?” says the man in the suit, gritting his teeth at how nervous he sounds, but sweating visibly as he realizes the sound of the ringing phone has gone silent just as the voice answered his call.

There’s a tremendous BANG and the rear door up on the loft smashes open, falling off its hinges and crashing to the steel flooring.

“I’m sorry,” replies the man on the other end of the line, stepping in the doorway, flanked by Kirishima and Suoh. “Asami’s not available just now. He’s busy slaughtering the rest of your men and will join us shortly. I’m his faggot fuck toy. Will I do in the meantime?” asks Feilong conversationally, smiling unpleasantly down at the gawking kidnappers. His dark eyes flick to Akihito momentarily as though to be certain he’s all right, then coldly return to the man in the suit. The barrels of three guns aim at the small party on the ground floor. One of the goons goes for his gun. Feilong fires once and the man crumples silently to the ground with a soft grunt, a small hole appearing neatly in the center of his forehead. The toady lets out a tiny shriek and then claps his hands to his mouth, as though embarrassed by his outburst. He, the man in the suit and the remaining thug are so intent on the three beings above them that they don’t hear the front door opening behind them. Akihito is facing it and sees Asami slip inside, his Sig in his hand, pointed at the ceiling. There’s blood on his hands and on his suit. Not that it’s visible against the black, but Aki can see one of Asami’s pants legs is stuck to his skin with wetness, and there are tiny drops of scarlet on the concrete as he steps easily into the building. He’s not limping, so Aki breathes a sigh of relief that the blood isn’t his. The look in Asami’s eyes cut the sigh off sharply as Aki’s breath catches in his throat. Asami’s expression is flat, revealing nothing, but his eyes rage at Akihito like an enraged tiger, burning amber hotter than molten lava. They promise death to the men standing over Aki’s chair, and dire retribution to Akihito. He swallows hard, partly in terror, but he can’t deny the surge of fierce joy at the sight of his lover. Asami will always come for him.

“Takaba,” says Asami coldly, “are you all right?”

“Yes Asami, I’m fine,” he gasps breathlessly, his heart pounding in his throat.

Asami’s gaze returns to the men standing before him.

“Which of you is responsible for the marks on that boy’s face?” he asks in a voice like Arctic ice cracking. Both the partners’ eyes slide to the remaining goon.  The goon looks down at the dead body of his partner as though wishing him alive again so he could take another bullet. Perhaps he thinks this would spare him somehow. Akihito is appalled at himself for a minute, because he knows full well he has orchestrated these men’s deaths. He realizes Feilong’s life is worth more than theirs, and that their actions would have brought about his beautiful lover’s horrible death as the hands of his own Triad. He’s horrified at the violence, but when he glances up over his shoulder and looks at Feilong, his long black hair tossing gently in the mild breeze coming in the open door behind him, his black tunic with his high collar fitted perfectly to his lithe body, his dark eyes filled with rage and concern for Akihito, he cannot find it in him to wish he’d made a different choice. He is magnificent in his anger. Not nearly as much as Asami, who radiates cold fury like the heart of an arctic star, his powerful body practically vibrating with his anger. The signs of violence, from the bloodstains to the redness of his knuckles to his mussed hair and heavy breathing are so primally gorgeous that Akihito can hardly believe he’s real. At the telltale expressions on the men’s faces, Asami angles his gun and calmly shoots the remaining goon neatly through the heart. He, too, collapses to the floor, eyes wide and shocked, mouth working silently for a few seconds before his expression goes fixed and frozen. Aki swallows bile and tells himself harshly that he will NOT throw up.

The toady starts to babble and plead for his life, for mercy, claiming he hadn’t had a choice, that the other man was forcing him to work with him, going on and on and on. There’s a sharp report and he pitches over forwards, blood pooling outwards from his face, but the back of his skull intact. Asami, Feilong and their men never use anything but jacketed hollow point ammunition. There is less likelihood of a shot passing through an intended target and into an unintended one, and the expansion of the bullet makes one hell of a mess inside a human body as it grows, separates, and caroms around inside of soft tissue. Aki gags again and looks away.

“My apologies, Sensei,” calls Feilong smoothly. “He was really getting on my nerves.”

“That’s quite all right, Feilong,” says Asami calmly. “I only need one of them alive. Could you and Kirishima please come down and escort Akihito to the car? I need to have a short conversation with my new friend here, and I don’t believe the boy needs to see it.”

Feilong and the two bodyguards descend to the main floor. Suoh goes to stand impassively by Asami’s side, staring almost unblinkingly at the suit. Feilong pulls a knife from his sleeve and quickly cuts the zip ties at Aki’s wrists and ankles.  Aki sees movement over Feilong’s shoulder and Yoh steps through the door where he had been standing guard to make sure there were no further members of this shockingly unprepared organization to cause any trouble. Apparently he is either confident that this is so, or cannot bear not to assure himself that Feilong is safe.

“Can you stand, Aki?” murmurs Feilong softly. Akihito works his wrists and wiggles his feet, wincing. The zip ties had been tight, and his hands and feet are tingling.

“I…I think so,” he replies, hating that his voice sounds so close to tears. He rises, wobbling a little, from the chair, and then collapses into Feilong’s arms. Feilong catches him easily and holds him very tightly for a few seconds, whispering something Akihito can’t understand in Cantonese. Aki controls himself and forces his shaking legs to hold him upright. He turns towards Asami, who is ignoring them, predatory gaze pinned to the man in the suit.

“A-Asami?” whimpers Aki in a small voice.

“Go,” snaps Asami, “unless you wish to see me torture this man for information, a circumstance you’ve put him and me in by your recklessness. Get him out of here, Feilong. I’ll be along shortly.”

Feilong puts his arms around Aki’s shoulders and leads him gently from the warehouse as tears rise in his eyes and trickle down his cheeks at Asami’s words. They may their way to the limo, parked a ways away from the pier and warehouse. The BMW is behind it. Feilong helps Akihito into the back seat of the limo while Yoh and Kirishima stand guard outside the vehicle. Once inside, Aki throws himself into Feilong’s arms and bursts into tears.

“I’m sorry,” he cries, “Oh Feif…I mean Feilong, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to upset you. I couldn’t think of another way to stop them!”

“I am still FeiFei to you,” whispers his lover into his hair as he holds Aki close. “And I am grateful to you for taking action to ensure the pictures collected by these men were NOT sent to my people. But Aki…you had no right to endanger yourself so.”

“I didn’t know what else to DO! That guy was going to go home once they finished whatever they were doing for the night, and I had no way to follow him!”

“I’m not denying that you’ve likely saved my life,” says Feilong quietly. “I am only saying it was not your choice to put yourself in such danger. Think you that I would be grateful for my continued existence if it came at the cost of your life?”

“Well…no…but….I couldn’t let them betray you like that, FeiFei! I _couldn’t_.”

“It’s not my forgiveness you need to worry about, Ototo,” says Feilong softly. “I’m not pleased at the fear you put me through this night, but I can forgive you. What you did was brave, and it worked, and I forgive you.”

“Asami’s really mad, isn’t he?” sniffles Aki miserably. In retrospect, it might have been a little smarter to text Asami the information he’d gathered and then asked for HELP, not a RESCUE.

“Oh yes,” Feilong assures him. “He’s VERY angry.”

“C…could you talk to him for me?” he asks tremulously, hopefully.

“No,” replies Feilong, gently but firmly. “Because despite my relief at seeing you whole and well, and my relief that the pictures, however they were procured, have not been sent, they do not mitigate the fact that you deserve what you’ve got coming to you.”

Aki whimpers softly.

Asami joins them at the car in about twenty minutes. There is fresh blood on his hands and small splatters of it on his face. Akihito blanches and tries not to see it when he looks at his lover. Asami’s movements are very precise and careful as he opens the door and lowers himself stiffly into the limo, while Suoh climbs into the driver’s seat and Yoh and Kirishima head for the BMW. He sits down and stares straight ahead, not looking at Aki, who feels desperate at being ignored.

“Asami,” he whispers meekly, “I…,”

“Don’t. Speak,” snaps Asami coldly. Akihito flinches and huddles back in his seat for the rest of the drive, feeling miserable and alone.

They arrive after what seems like an age of driving, back at the Penthouse. Asami presses two buttons in the elevator, the one for the floor where Yoh’s apartment is kept, and for the top floor. He and Feilong engage in a muted conversation in Mandarin, because Asami speaks it better than he speaks Cantonese. Aki doesn’t know what they’re saying, but Feilong and Yoh exit the elevator together, Yoh giving Aki a tiny smile of encouragement, and Feilong hugging him briefly but fiercely. The two of them ride up the final floor in silence, Suoh and Kirishima having peeled off to wherever it is that they go from the parking garage. Asami unlocks the door and motions Aki inside. Once past the entryway and into the living room, he stops, arms wrapped around himself as though cold, or as if he needs a hug. He peeks at Asami from under his eyelashes.

“I’m going to shower off this…filth,” snarls Asami angrily, and leaves Aki standing there. He doesn’t know what to do with himself, so he goes to the kitchen to brew some tea. The ritual of setting the kettle to boil, filling the tea pot with hot water to warm it, measuring the loose leaf into the little basket, of pouring the not-quite-boiling water slowly over them, all serve to calm him. His hands are only shaking a little when strong arms surround him and pull him close against a large body, warm from the shower.

“I thought I’d lost you,” mutters Asami into his hair. Aki shudders and turns in Asami’s arms to look at his face, looking to see if he’s still angry. Oh, he really is. He opens his mouth to explain, but Asami covers his lips with one large hand.

“Don’t,” he warns softly. “Don’t make excuses to me. It will only make things worse. I know what you did and why you did it. I’ve seen the pictures they had, and let me just say that nothing involving Feilong will ever again happen on the balcony or in the living room with the vertical blinds open.  I concede that you likely saved his life. There is NOTHING you can say that makes it all right for you to have done so at the risk to your own! NOTHING! The time I spent after you sent me your information and your stupid, harebrained, reckless plan…when you answered neither your phone or your text messages and I had no idea whether you were alive or dead, or how badly they might have hurt you…”

“Asami, I’m sorry,” whispers Akihito, feeling about two inches tall at the helpless rage and anguish he can hear in Asami’s voice.

“You will NEVER put me through that again. Do you hear me, Takaba Akihito? NEVER!”

“I won’t. I didn’t think it through. I didn’t know what else to do, but I should have…asked you for help or something. I’m so sorry!” Asami grits his teeth and steps back from Akihito, his fists clenched. He looks pale, and Aki can’t tell whether it is rage or terror leaching the color from his skin and making his eyes look like sunken shadows of misery in his handsome face.

“I’ll forgive you,” says Asami softly, “after you’ve been punished.”

Aki’s stomach rolls with nausea. He’s not surprised by the statement, he’d just hoped not to hear it, even though he’d known the hope was futile. Asami had been pretty mad the time Aki had ridden his scooter home with a bit of a buzz on. His buttocks clench nervously as he thinks about how much the slender cane had hurt his bare bottom and how hard he had cried. Asami’s a lot more upset now than he had been then. He takes a nervous step back and swallows hard.

“Wh…what are you going to do?” he asks in a small voice. Asami sighs and looks away as he answers.

“I’m going to cane you. It’s going to be worse than last time. Fifteen strokes,” he says, his voice hoarse with emotion.

“Fif…fifteen!” gasps Akihito. It had been ten when he’d ridden drunk.

“And then I’m going to leather your ass and legs with the tawse,” says Asami grimly. Aki chokes on a whimper of fear. He hasn’t had the tawse yet. It’s somehow scarier than Asami’s belt, for all that both are made of leather. It’s wider, a full three inches, with two tongues cut in the end, about half the length of the strap. It has a wooden handle affixed to the end, and it is thick and heavy and supple with repeated oiling.  His hands go back unconsciously to cover his backside and he takes another step back, eyes wide, mouth dry, staring wide-eyed at Asami. Asami sighs heavily and holds out his hand to Akihito.

“You don’t have to accept the punishment, Akihito. I will not beat you against your will for this.”

“Y-you won’t?”

“No. You may choose not to accept my terms, and you may pack your things and go.”

“Asami!” cries Aki in horror, tears springing up in his eyes.

“You are mine, or you are not,” says Asami, his voice going even rougher, his eyes more bleak. “You can accept it or not. I’d give my life to keep you safe, pay any price, go to any extreme, burn the world to the ground just for you. But I cannot protect you from yourself and then sit on my hands and pretend that it’s okay. If you accept that you are mine, then you accept the consequences of your actions as well. It’s up to you.” As he speaks, Asami’s hand does not tremble, or waver. He holds it out towards Akihito, palm up, and waits patiently.

Aki thinks about the cane and the tawse, and tries to imagine how much being spanked with both is going to feel. He knows he’s not even close to envisioning what they’ll really feel like. Then he thinks about walking out the front door with his suitcase packed, and never coming back. There’s not a choice then. Not really. He takes Asami’s hand. The way Asami’s shoulders slump a little with relief tells him Asami hadn’t been nearly as sure that there wasn’t a choice.  He follows Asami through the penthouse to the secret room, which is already open and waiting. He swallows nervously. The spanking bench is in the center of the room. It is a heavy sawhorse-like object, thickly padded and covered with leather along its top, with arm- and knee-rests at all four legs. There are straps so that a person can be secured at arm, thigh and waist. Asami walks to the wall where the drawers and cabinets that hold all his instruments od pain and pleasure are kept. His back to Akihito, he opens one and says quietly,

“Take off your clothes and get on the horse, Akihito.”

Panting a little in fear, Aki obeys with trembling fingers, eyes darting to Asami’s tall, powerful body as the man runs his fingers over his collection of canes. He has six, of varying lengths and thicknesses. From a slender reed just barely more than a switch to a brutal monster as big around as a man’s finger. Asami ignores that one, but Aki’s stomach clenches when his fingers pause over the one just slightly smaller, which still fills Aki’s slim body with tremors of terror. It is the one Asami used on Feilong, and Aki remembers the great livid welts and bruises. The fingers move on, down to the next cane, a shorter, more slender model that he’d used the last time. Oh, it had hurt. Aki muffles a whimper of anxiety when Asami takes it down from its peg and swishes it hard through the air a couple of times, making it whistle. Shaking, Aki crawls onto the padded sawhorse and places his knees and elbows in the little platforms attached to the legs so that he straddles it, legs spread, bottom upraised slightly by the height of the knee rests. Asami opens another cabinet and takes out the tawse. Akihito swallows hard. It looks so damned scary! He knows it’s going to be a lot worse than Asami’s belt, and that stings bad enough! And on top of the welts he’ll have from the cane? Tears well up in his eyes again, but they dry up when he watches Asami. Slowly, tiredly, as if he were exhausted and sick and much older than his years, Asami leans against the door of the cabinet before he closes it, his head falling forward, shoulders slumping as a shudder rocks his body.

“Aki,” he says softly, not looking around or standing up straight, “I don’t know what I would have done if they’d…”

“They didn’t,” interrupts Akihito quickly. “You were in time. It was my fault. Asami…I’m….I’m ready.”

The shoulders and spine slowly straighten and Asami turns. His eyes still hold their torment, and Aki finds that he would do an awful lot to make that look go away. When Asami steps close and leans down to buckle the straps, Aki stops him.

“Please,” he whispers, “I don’t need them.”

Asami looks into his eyes and what he sees there pushes the horrible look in his eyes back just a little bit.

“You understand that if you move, the stroke could land somewhere…damaging?” he asks quietly. “I’m not going to go easy on you.”

“I know,” breathes Akihito. “I can do it. I want to.”

Asami’s fingertips brush the hair out of Aki’s eyes and the unhappy scowl on his face relents just a little.

“My brave little kitten,” he murmurs. Aki glares at him at the silly endearment and the stormclouds part just a little more. Aki can see the Asami he has come to depend on in that expression now, and begins to hope that things haven’t been irrevocably damaged. Asami stands up and walks around to Akihito’s side, resting his left hand at the small of his back. Aki feels the smooth, cool length of the rattan slide down the curves of his backside, and shivers a little.

“I won’t make you count them,” says Asami, and there is a little growl to his voice, the kind that makes Aki shiver and want him, and through his fear of the coming punishment, he feels better somehow. “You’re going to be making far too much noise to keep track.” Aki gulps.

The can taps gently three times against his upraised bottom and then is drawn back. Aki hears the hiss of it slashing through the air for a split second before it impacts against his cheeks, biting in deep. For a couple of seconds, he doesn’t feel anything, and then the pain comes, sharp and immediate, and blooming larger. He gasps and curses under his breath. Asami isn’t in any hurry. Akihito can’t tell if this is because he’s cutting Aki some slack and letting him breathe a minute between strokes or if he’s savoring the building pain that rises up in the wake of each stroke, actually hurting more after a few seconds than at the moment of impact. The second and third cuts come about thirty seconds apart, and anybody who doesn’t think thirty seconds is a long time has never been bent naked over a spanking bench with their ass in the air waiting for the next agonizing lash of the cane across their vulnerable nether parts! Aki is panting and gasping after the third. Asami is nefariously good at administering a proper caning. He walks into the stroke, working from the elbow with the weight of his body behind it, not the shoulder. His wrist flicks at the point of impact so that the length of the rattan snaps in a long, even line across Akihito’s bottom. Inexpert caners, he has been told (as if he wished to know!) will dig the tip of the cane in too deeply and leave uneven welts, as well as causing un-needed contusion to the outer cheek of the unfortunate victim. Akihito cannot drum up a great deal of sympathy for them, whoever they might be. He cries out in pain on the fourth. He tries not to, but he can’t help it. Oh gods, it fucking hurts!

SNAP! Five.

“AHH! OH!” he yelps, allowing himself to wriggle his bottom a little because he knows Asami won’t hit him again right away. He opens his eyes wide and blinks hard. I won’t cry, he tells himself sternly. I won’t!

SNAP! Six.

“OWWWW,” he wails as the sixth stroke bites in at the crease where he bottom meets his thighs. He crams his knuckles in his mouth and bites down, mewling between his teeth. Every welt on his tender flesh throbs with the pounding of his heart. He longs to reach back and cover his backside with his hands, at least to rub the sting away a little.

“OOOHHHH, OWW, ASAMI!” he cries as the seventh stroke lashes the very tops of his thighs. Tears well up in his eyes again and spill over, running silently down his face.

Then Asami taps the cane back at the top where he’d started his strokes, and lays the next stripe down right between the tramlines of the first and second strokes. Aki yells and writhes, his bottom  on fire. Asami waits patiently and silently for him to calm down and be still again. It hurts so much, Aki wonders at the wisdom of claiming not to need to be belted down over the horse, but he makes himself remember the way Asami had stood in front of the cabinet, bent and terrible in his fear and pain. I did that, thinks Aki to himself, even as he starts to sob. I didn’t just make him mad. I _hurt_ him. And he straightens his body and lifts his ass again.

SNAP! Nine.

Aki howls in pain as every stroke now blisters across his backside in the thin gap between previous strokes. He’s on fire with the bitter sting of the cane’s bite, and sobs openly after he yelps and howls at the impact. By the time the fifteenth stroke falls, Akihito is a bawling mess, squealing in pain and sobbing loudly as the final cut bites across his legs. He collapses across the horse and cries. Asami goes and cleans the cane with alcohol wipes, not because he’s broken skin (he hasn’t) but because it is simply part of his ritual. He comes and kneels down at Aki’s head once he’s replaced it in its cabinet, and by that time Akihito has sucked down some of his pain and is crying softly, his bottom still upraised and throbbing with heat. He can feel every one of those fifteen strokes. His fingers once again brush Aki’s hair from his eyes, then drift down and capture his tears on sensitive fingertips. Asami brushes some away, and puts his fingers to his lips to taste the next.

“I asked you to stop tossing my heart around,” he says hoarsely. “But you never listen.”

“I….I…I’m…suh….suh…”

“Hush. I know. You’re so brave, my cute Takaba. I didn’t think you’d be able to hold position for a caning like that, but you did it. Brave, or stubborn. Perhaps both. Oh Aki, I’m still not finished. Do you want the restraints now?’

Akihito swallows hard when he thinks about taking more punishment on his aching, burning bottom, but the pain still haunts Asami’s eyes and it stabs straight into his tender heart.

“Nuh…no,” he gasps. “I cuh…can do it!”

“All right then,” says Asami softly, standing up, and Aki can see he has the tawse in his hand. “Just a little more then. You must be still though, Akihito. I’m going to whip you hard, and I don’t want to miss.”

Aki nods, too breathless to speak. He will do this. He will. He must breach the yawning gulf that stands between them right now, and if bearing this punishment will do it, he thinks he’d lie here all night and let Asami beat him.

He changes his mind rapidly when the thick leather strap SMACKS across his tender, welted bottom. He shrieks. It’s like Asami has set his bottom on fire. Like being stung by a thousand hornets.  The second spank comes much sooner after the first than the cane strokes had done, and he screams again.

“OWWW!! NOO! OH NO PLEASE!” he yowls. Asami spanks him again, the tongues of the tawse dipping between his legs to sting his inner thighs.

“OHHHH NO! OH IT HURTS! PLEASE ASAMI! PLEASE!” He sobs and howls and begs, but the hot spanks of the strap do not pause. Somewhere around stroke seven or eight, Asami starts to respond to his pleas for mercy.

“Bad little boys get punished,” he growls. “And you were very, VERY bad, Akihito.”

“OWWWHOOO! IT HURRRRRTS!”

“I know it hurts. It’s supposed to hurt. You’re being spanked very hard. I mean for you to cry and cry.”

And he does. Oh, Akihito bawls and sobs and cries like he’s a naughty ten-year-old boy getting a blistering from his papa. Asami leathers his bare bottom and thighs and lets the strap nip between his cheeks at the tender skin there. He screams and begs and pleads. It hurts so much! It hurts…but it hurts so much more that Asami is angry at him.

“I’M SO SORRYYYYY!” he screams, after the seventeenth stroke, or the seventieth, he has lost count long ago. “PLEASE ASAMI! PLEASE DON’T MAKE ME GO!! PLEASE PLEASE! I LOVE YOU! DON’T THROW ME OUT! I’LL BE GOOD!! OH OWWW!”

There’s a loud crash and he is yanked suddenly off the horse, choking on another loud howl of pain. He sees the tawse skidding across the room as it rebounds off the wall Asami has hurled it at, and then he is enveloped in powerful arms. He buries his face against Asami’s chest and cries like a baby, wetting the expensive shirt. Asami doesn’t seem to care. Oh gods, he smells so good.

“I will never throw you out, Akihito,” whispers Asami in a choked voice. “Never think that! Do you think you’d be able to toss my heart around so easily if you didn’t own it? Hush now. I forgive you. It is over, and forgotten.”

Aki’s tears turn from grief and pain to relief. When Asami says forgotten, he means it.

“Yuh…You’re nuh…not gonna make me go away?” he sniffles, wiping his face on bespoke linen.

“The only way I could let you go would be if there were no breath left in my body, and to be honest, I’m not even sure about then.”

“What’re you gonna do?” says Aki wetly, snickering a little despite the horrid burning pain in his bottom, “come back and haunt me?”

“Yes I think so,” says Asami, and Aki sighs with pleasure at the easy humor in his deep, rich voice. “Slip into your dreams and torment your body with the ways I know to love you, just the way you like it.”

Aki raises his tearstained face and looks up at Asami.

“W-will you? Will you do that…now?”

Asami sighs and rubs the tears from Aki’s face.

“I can’t, Akihito, and I’ll tell you why. If I take you to bed…and fuck you…your body will associate the pain of your punishment with sex.  That would be horribly wrong of me, to start to train you to enjoy being punished. I want to touch you, pleasure you, show you that I am not angry at you anymore in so many ways, but I’m not going to. I was going to make you sleep in your bed alone tonight, but I can’t do it. Come to bed with me. I’ll put some ointment on your bottom, and in the morning I will show you how very forgiven you are.”

“Oh…okay,” whispers Aki, unable to hide a hint of disappointment. Asami lifts him easily and carries him to the bed where he lays him down gently on his tummy. He goes to the bathroom and comes back with a little green jar of something. It burns and stings when he rubs it gently into Aki’s welted backside, and he sobs a little as the fires are reignited, but Asami hushes and soothes him, and in the wake of the burn, the ointment is cool and soothing. Asami sheds his pants and shirt and climbs into the bed, pulling Aki against him, mindful of his beaten ass. With that powerfully muscled arm around him, Aki falls into an exhausted slumber.

He awakes on his belly again, with wicked fingers gently stroking the aching marks on his naked bottom. He whines and squirms, and Asami slaps him very lightly on his ass. He yelps loudly and subsides.

“Good morning,” purrs Asami, pushing his legs open wide. Aki whimpers. Firm hands spread him, and Asami’s devil tongue flickers over his little rosebud, making him gasp and writhe. When Aki is whimpering with need, Asami rolls away for a moment and returns with slick fingers to slowly open the soft little asshole of the wriggling boy. Aki gasps and cries out little helpless cries as Asami’s fingers stretch him gently, softly rubbing the small nub of his prostate with beckoning tugs of his fingertips.  He’s begging to be fucked in minutes, his cock aching as he ruts desperately against the sheets. Asami chuckles and tilts Aki’s hips up, reaching around to grasp his erection firmly as he presses his heavy, fat cock slowly into Akihito’s tight little hole.

“I mean to ride you hard,” chuckles his lover remorselessly, “for you are mine, and I’ll take you as I wish. But I’ll make you feel so good, Akihito…for I am yours as well.”

“Asami!” cries Aki as he’s opened wide and Asami starts to fuck him hard, his hips slapping against Aki’s punished bottom and igniting fires in his backside and his belly at the burn of it. “Ohh, Asami?”

“What is it, my cute Takaba? You’d best not beg for mercy from me, for you’ll get none.”

“N-no,” pants Aki in frustration.

“Really?” laughs Asami unsympathetically. “You’d tell me no right now?’

“SH-shut up,” growls Aki. “I-idiot! I wa-was trying to say…”

“Hm? Careful, Aki. I spanked you very hard last night. You don’t want to cross me right now.” He punctuates his words with a brutal thrust.

“AHH! OHH, Asami! Please!” cries Aki, squirming.

“Please what, my pretty pet?”

“Asami! Ohh. HARDER!”

Asami’s astonished laugh is drowned by Aki’s howl as he comes, shuddering and trembling, knowing full well Asami’s not nearly done with him, that he probably WILL be begging for mercy before it’s done, but he doesn’t care. The words whispered to him in the night are tucked safely into his mind. “Do you think you’d be able to toss my heart around so easily….

If you didn’t own it?”


End file.
